


Oh Captain my Captain

by Fogfire



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 22:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fogfire/pseuds/Fogfire
Summary: reader gets her own command and has to say goodbye





	Oh Captain my Captain

The linen of your bed is cool on your skin as you lie awake. Is it really only one week left until you leave the Enterprise behind and with her all the friends you’ve made?

You can’t believe you’re really doing this.

As sleep is evading you, you slip out of bed and pull a small box out of your cupboard, spilling its content on your desk. Pictures, small notes you’ve taken, as well as the silly little doodles you’ve always liked to create.

You get to work just as eager as one does who’s tasted the first, addicting spark of creativity, in your dimly lit room in the early hours of Gamma Shift.

You sort everything by person until your eyes linger on a picture you’ve forgotten you own and you pick it up.

It shows you and your favorite professor, his arm slung around your shoulders as you help him stand. Christopher Pike, the man whose speeches have fueled your desire to be what you are today.

Without intending to, your mind slips back into the past.

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!” You yell, chasing after him on one of the long hallways of your home.

“And I’m trying to subtly avoid it!” he answers with a snark, moving his wheelchair away from you.

“Uncle Chris!” You demand his attention and he stops with a sigh, knowing full well that he can’t get away from you when you start using the family bonds on him.

“I’ll stick to my word,” he threatens as you step in front of him, arms crossed over your chest.

“What word?” You ask, “When I was seven years old you saw my desire to go to Starfleet. Your stories made me have that desire in the first place. And you promised me, several times, that you would teach me everything you know when it was time for me to learn.”

“But-”

“No buts,” you disagree stubbornly, “You promised. I know you’re missing the Enterprise but you’re my favorite uncle and my best professor, you can’t just ask me to drop out of Starfleet Academy just because some douchebag decided to attack the Fleet! That’s a risk we live with every day.”

“You’re my niece! You shouldn’t have to live with that.”

You look down at him, less angry but still as determined.

“I will have to live with that either way, but your experience can help me survive it.”

You turn around and walk away, knowing he will need his time to think about it. It only takes him five seconds, five steps of you down the hallway.

“Wait. You’re right.”

You heave a sigh and look down at the picture. Khan’s attack has taken an even greater toll on his health and you can’t be thankful enough for him to be still alive. With a smile you scan the picture and type a letter to him, thanking him for the role he’s played in your life.

You move through the pictures, taking each one up to look closer at it and let your mind wander to memories you cherish, moments you want to remind them again, now that you leave.

-

You’re just about to take a seat at the navigator’s desk on the bridge as a bright voice pipes up behind you.

“Did you know that the role of the navigator was invented in Russia?”

“What?” You turn around to find a curly haired boy standing behind you, grinning at you.

“It was Toporov Marka Igorevich, who-”

“You’re lying.” You interrupt him and he stops short, his grin faltering.

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?” He asks, only half joking.

“I don’t know, probably both.” You reply and he laughs out loud.

“Good to know, but I didn’t lie. Now move over, this is my seat.”

“Not for long, Mister,” you tell him and slip out of the chair, patting his shoulder, “But I will let you have it as soon as the Captain’s chair is mine. My name is Y/N, better remember it.”

“Pavel,” he shakes your hand, “And don’t worry, I won’t forget you.”

-

“I am sorry, but you are not allowed to go onto this away mission.” A woman holds you back.

You take a long look at her, before smiling.

“Lieutenant Uhura, right?”

“Affirmative. But you knowing my name does not change anything about that decision.”

You squint at her. “And who made that decision?”

“As far as I know I Capt- Mr. Pike asked Captain Kirk to withhold further missions.”

“Until when?”

“I don’t have any information about that.”

You take a closer look at her face, before breathing out.

“You don’t agree with either of them?”

“No, I don’t,” Lieutenant Uhura answers you, “I have seen your record and I trust in Captain Kirk’s decisions. If he says you’re suited for a mission, you are suited for a mission. If you’re not, you’re not.”

“But Uncle Chris…”

“Mr. Pike is clearly worried, now that he’s not able to stay with you.”

“Well,” you sigh, “I’m sure there’s no use in arguing about this mission now.”

“Sadly not, no.”

You nod to yourself and to her as you make a decision, stepping back.

“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”

She smiles when you leave.

-

“I feel like I’m being stabbed.” You groan as you lie on the dirty floor of the cave you’re hiding in.

“How do you even know what it feels like to be stabbed?” Lieutenant Sulu asks, peering out into the darkness.

“Excuse you, I have a very active imagination!”

“Excuse you, you said you weren’t injured!” He looks back at you and you think you can see the worry in his eyes.

You laugh, unamused. “I’m not injured, you idiot. I have my period.”

Sulu sighs, turning back towards the opening. “Why did you insist on going on this mission then? And why do you discuss your period with me anyway? Is it because I’m-”

“It’s because you’re there and you’re breathing. I would discuss my period with everyone present that’s a living being, thank you very much.”

You can hear him laugh and turn a bit to throw your supply kit at him. He catches it easily.

“Get on your feet, we’re moving. If you get us caught with you moaning in pain, I will bite you.”

“Wow, what a threat,” you tease him, pulling yourself up. Despite the pain, you know how to focus on what’s important.

The priority right now? Get to the camp. Preferably alive.

-

The first time you meet Nurse Chapel, it’s in a camp on a planet, ready to evacuate.

She’s blond, she’s fierce and she’s drenched in blood.

“All that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes,” you tell her, right when she turns around to look at the two of you.

Sulu’s elbow rams your ribs, but it’s too late, the words have slipped out already.

Christine just laughs and her first reaction foreshadows every further impression you get from her. She laughs at your jokes, she takes you seriously when you need to be taken for real and she manages to push you to the limits you’ve thought you had.

You put the picture of her down on the other side of the table, typing a message into your PADD.

“Dear Christine, as much as I dread the time here running out, I can’t wait to meet you again. How lucky I am, to get this chance, to be lucky like this. I get to be a Captain and have you as my head nurse. Also, McCoy wanted me to tell you that he’s never had a better nurse than you. I do believe he never meant anything more serious than this in his life. Not that it surprised me. I know how great you are.”

-

You watch Keenser pour a thick, bright yellow liquid into a glass before he drops three green seeds into it and waits until they have dissolved. Whatever he’s mixing, you can’t pronounce neither its name nor its ingredients, but everything he uses is either brightly colored, smells intoxicating or looks like something taken out of the imagination of a small child.

Watching him work on that drink is the best show you’ve seen for a long time.

His last ingredient smells just plain disgusting.

“Is that-?” You ask, afraid to think about what it looks like. Something like a liquid but it looks like it’s moving as if it is alive. You’re not sure, but its color makes you want to retch, at least until he drops it in the drink, stirs and pushes it towards you.

“That’s disgusting,” you tell him. He shrugs and pushes the glass the tiniest bit further in your direction.

You sigh and take the drink, sniffing it. It doesn’t smell bad, but the sight of that last ingredient…

Keenser glares at you and you pull a face and take a few large gulps, downing almost half of its content in one go.

“That’s disgusting,” You tell him, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He shrugs again, urging you to drink the rest of your glass.

“I am way too sober for this.” Scotty groans right beside you, staring at the glass you still have in hand.

“You’re not sober,” you remind him, “You and me, we’ve got the hangover of our lives and Keenser is trying to cure it.”

“Oh,” Scotty says as if he has just realized that now, “I totally forgot.”

“You forgot you had a hangover?” You laugh but stop when the pain in your head makes you realize what a bad decision that had been.

“No, I forgot I already woke up,” he groans, slumping on the table, “This feels like a nightmare.”

Keenser pulls a bottle out of his pocket and pushes it across the table into Scotty’s hand.

You clink your glass against it before raising it to your lips.

“May we keep our promise and never drink Sinar Whisky again.”

“Aye!”

-

“God, ‘dying is easy’ was the biggest lie ever. I’m exhausted.” Jim bemoans from his bed.

You roll your eyes and wring out the cloth before you bring it back to his forehead to cool down his fever.

“You’re not dying,” you tell him, “You’ve just got the flu.”

“I’m burning up, my throat-” he coughs and rasps to emphasize his point, “hurts, I can hardly breathe and there’s no medicine available.”

“We have plenty of medicine, Captain,” you remind him, “Now stop whining or I will not ask Doctor McCoy to get off his shore leave earlier to take care of you.”

“Did you just insult your Captain?” Jim asks and you roll your eyes.

“You’re dying but your hearing is just fine. How about you keep in mind that this is shore leave, Uncle Chris invited you and I have to use my vacation time to look after you.”

“You’re an angel?”

“That sounds way better,” you smile at him and tuck the blanket around him.

A week later you’re back on the Enterprise and sick yourself.

Not that you don’t try to downplay it.

But when you manage to sneeze all over your monitor during your shift on the bridge, it’s hard to hide.

“Are you feeling unwell, Lieutenant Y/N?” Spock asks after you’ve sent everyone a glare that was supposed to stop them from asking. It didn’t stop him.

“I’m fine.” You growl.

“You do not look fine.” He disagrees.

“Then stop looking.” You snap back and turn away from him to wipe the snot off your monitor. It’s gross but it would be grosser to leave it where it is.

“You are to report to med-bay immediately.”

“It’s just a cold,” you disagree, shooting a glare back at him, cursing the fact that Jim has to be in a meeting with Scotty right this moment. He would let you stay, if only for the reason that he got you sick in the first place. But Spock is not just a rule-obsessed Vulcan, but a very stubborn one too.

“You could infect everyone else on the bridge and a common cold, as you call it, could be fatal to co-workers of other species,” Spock disagrees again, “You are to report to med-bay right now, or I’ll have to force you to.”

You roll your eyes and get up, “Alright, fine, I’m going.”

In the end, it’s not his authority who makes you follow his orders but the risk of infecting others. Not that he will see your actions this way.

-

“Take the damn medicine!”

You regret going to med-bay the moment Doctor McCoy is trying to force something disgusting looking down your throat. You’d rather take Keenser’s hangover drinks any day.

“No, it’s gross!”

“Stop acting like you’re two and take it!” The spoon stays right in front of your mouth and you press your lips together, determined not to let that spoon through.

“You’re worse than Jim!” He groans and you open your mouth to disagree. A big mistake, as he shoves the spoon inside the moment your lips part.

You splutter and cough but there’s no use, the medicine is already sliding down your throat and you glare at the doctor.

“What was that for? That was unfair!”

“Was not! And now lay back and get well or I’ll stab you with a hypo the next time you need medicine!”

“Unfair!” You insist and he gives your shoulder a shove as you stick your tongue out at him.

You halt in your memories, thinking back at the time spent with Dr. McCoy. It had not always been fun, but there had never been a second where you had doubted he had meant well.

“I should have been you a better patient”, you write into the letter directed at him, “I should have taken the medicine and not cursed as much when you had to give me a hypo. I can’t promise to be better, as I don’t know what cruel CMO I will get on my own ship, but I promise to miss you.”

-

Finally, the day arrives where you leave, your new ship coming close enough to pick you up, taking you to earth where the command will be given you officially.

You cry, you sniff, you smear your tears in your friend’s uniforms, but eventually, you step onto the transporter PADD and wave one last time in the direction of your friends before the golden light hides them from your eyes.

When you can see again, you look into the eyes of your new first officer, who’s smiling back at you.

“Wipe away that tears,” Carol Marcus announces, “We’ll be partying tonight and we won’t stop until anyone on this ship knows that you’re our new Captain.”

“I hate you.” You grumble back and she smirks before she answers. “Why? I’m lovely.”

You hit her, gently, on the right shoulder. “You know why.”

“Oh, because I did not let you stay sad? I booked some time for you tomorrow evening, you can be sad then.”

You hit her again and she laughs and slings her arm around your shoulders.

“No violence, Captain!”

-

You eventually know you have found a new home on this new ship when the door of your ready room opens and a familiar face appears.

“Carol Marcus told me you’re feeling sad.”

“Jaylah!” You jump out of your seat to hug you, “I’m so glad to see you again.”

“But you knew you would see me! We spoke about me already being here.”

“I know, I know, it’s just a figure of speech, I was missing you, you know-”

“Do you need tea?” Jaylah asks and you stop to look at her.

“What?”

“Montgomery Scotty used to say that tea cures everything. So we should begin with tea.”

“I’m not sick.”

“But-” 

“No but, no tea. I know you are worried about me, but if you try to feed me soup, or give me any more blankets I am going to slap you.”

“But I didn’t give you a blanket in the first place?” Jaylah looks just as out of place as you’ve felt before she’s barged into the room.

You laugh. “I’m sorry. I think I just have to get used to this, is all.”

“I have a remedy to that. Carol Marcus has planned a party for you anyway.”


End file.
